


Definitions of Home

by Lisse



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Crossover, Gen, Hetalia Kink Meme
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-11-07
Updated: 2009-11-07
Packaged: 2017-12-25 21:44:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 726
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/957932
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lisse/pseuds/Lisse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Shortly before he leaves for Starfleet Academy, a young Pavel Chekov gets an unexpected visitor.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Definitions of Home

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written for a hetalia_kink prompt.

Pavel is the youngest cousin on either side of his sprawling family, not to mention the very first to join Starfleet, and so it isn't much of a surprise when all of them turn up to see him off - even the third cousin twice removed who lives on Alpha Centauri, who times her vacation around his departure date. Proud, overwhelmed, and feeling much younger than fourteen, Pavel accepts the congratulations as best he can and attempts to navigate the gaggle of big sisters and the cheek-pinching great-aunts and the whirlwind of assorted distant relations he's never met before and in all likelihood won't see again for another decade or three.

He notices the tall blond man, of course - why wouldn't he; it's hard to miss someone who towers head and shoulders above everyone else - but it's not until he's ducked into his grandfather's study for a moment's peace that he finds himself sitting beside him, vaguely wondering which branch of the family he belongs to and why he's wearing that scarf on such a warm day.

"Pavel Andreyevich," the man says, like he's testing Pavel's name. Then he smiles broadly. "Pavlusha, I think."

The diminutive sounds strange coming from someone he's sure he's never met, but for some reason he doesn't bristle over it. "I'm sorry, I don't know you."

"Of course not. Your family is very big, and I'm only a friend." The man tilts his head, considering. "My name is Ivan."

"That makes five of you." In addition to an uncle, a cousin, and a brother-in-law at last count. "Who invited you?" Pavel asks, then realizes how rude that sounds. "Not that you're not welcome! I mean - "

But Ivan just laughs. "I invited myself. I'm always welcome here. Your parents were very clear about that."

Pavel tries to picture his mother letting anyone wander into their home without heavy scrutiny and fails miserably. "They were?"

"I've known your family for a long time, Pavlusha. Long enough to expect great things from you in Starfleet."

He wonders how long "a long time" could possibly be - Ivan doesn't look more than four or five years older than him - but decides he's too polite to say so. "Thank you for coming, then."

"You don't believe me, do you?" Ivan asks, but he doesn't sound insulted, just very amused. He claps a hand on Pavel's shoulder, no doubt leaving a bruise in the process, and stands up, nodding to one corner of the study as if he's intimately familiar with the room. "I'm in the family pictures, you know."

Pavel frowns at him - which makes Ivan laugh again, like a particularly indulgent older brother - but crosses the study to frown at the pictures on the wall. There are a lot of them. Then again, there are a lot of them all over the house.

The Chekov family is fiercely proud of who they are and where they came from. The house is centuries old and as full of relics as it is of family: framed photographs, of course, but also books with dedications and endearments written in old-fashioned handwriting, medals from three world wars and all the assorted conflicts in-between, the flags of old Russia hung carefully on the walls. Pavel is the only one of his schoolmates who learned Russian long before Federation Standard, to the point that he speaks the latter with a heavy accent, and he's _happy_ with that.

Like the rest of his family, he will always be a Russian before he is a Federation citizen. Starfleet Academy isn't going to change that.

He finds the picture easily enough. It's one of the very oldest, something that might have been black and white, but has long since faded to shades of brown. It's a small group of army officers from the very first world war, impossibly young and heavily mustached, and right in the middle - looking vaguely like Pavel's oldest sister and mulishly stubborn - is his many-times great-grandfather, Sergei Romanovich Chekov.

The man standing next to him is taller than most.

Pavel spins around. "How did you - "

But there's no one else in the room. There's just Ivan in the picture, deadly serious. 

He's known the family for a long time, after all.

Pavel shivers, tells himself he believes in hallucinations more than ghosts, and walks back into the whirlwind buzz of his family.


End file.
